A Father's Day story.

Father’s Day is a great day to celebrate fatherhood. Unfortunately, for me, it’s not a day I have been celebrating for the longest time, maybe I will start soon. Today, I needed to share the story of why I do not celebrate it.  Buckle up because it’s gonna be a long read it might get a bit teary in here and I hope you learn and enjoy reading this – even if with tears.

Today I woke up to lots of celebrations – lots of people posting their fathers on social media, paying tribute and honouring their fathers for how great they are or were and the great role they played in shaping them to the people they are today. It’s an incredible thing I have to say. I hope the fathers can see that and I cannot imagine how they feel. Now, because of peer pressure, I will also post two especially important men in my life; my father and brother but I will write more about the former. After all, this is Father’s Day.

Now, I was born in a family of seven (a little background about myself for especially readers that do not know me and for context); my four siblings, and my parents. I am a fourth born and preceded by three sisters. That’s why my parents called me Sikudhani – because they did not expect to get a boy. Now away from that, growing up, it was mostly my sisters, mum and I before my brother came around. I grew up in a small village called Dida in Ganze Sub County – Kilifi County and my father used to work in Mombasa. Being the only boy in the family ( before my brother came later), I literally had no man to learn from; men were working in towns and those around, relatives and neighbours were not men I thought I could learn from. Some I did, I have to admit.

My father would only come home on weekends and sometimes skip one weekend. I know he would arrive really early but only his luggage would proceed him. He would remain in “Mangwes” (clubs where people drink palm wine or as we call it, mnazi) and come home late in the night very drunk. So, he would make a lot of noise asking for food and that would wake us all up. Thank God he was never violent, I respect him for that. Mum would serve him food; he would eat and drop himself to bed. He would sleep all night and wake up the next day (Sunday) either just before or just after noon. It would already be too late because he needs to get back to Mombasa and that takes at least 3 hours. So, he would get ready really fast and travel back. This was the trend that I can remember. There are a few weekends when he would get home early but we never got to talk even in such rare weekends. I think he was more concerned with making sure there is food on the table than know that he has a son that needed to learn from him what manhood is.

Basically, growing up, my father was never around. He had more important things to take care of than having time for me or any of my siblings ( I know how harsh and unfair that sounds but what do you expect?) My mum kept her cool but of course she was suffering – she had to work hard to make sure that when my father wouldn’t provide, there was food on the table. They had issues with him, infidelity especially and my father did not see my mum as a woman enough especially for the years before I was born because he needed a son. All that frustration, bitterness and anger, my mum poured it on us. She would rain pain on us. Ile kuchapwa tulichapwa🙆🙆🙆. But she was there. She was to leave my father but did not because of us – I respect this woman for this because I don’t imagine how our lives would have turned out if she left.

I have to admit, my dad loved me in his own way. I still do not understand up to now and I am not sure I would call it love. But it was his way. I got gifts of clothes every once in a while. Kaundas to be specific. I felt good and trust me at the time I didn’t see his absence as something. It felt normal. Fast forward to when I was in, I guess class four or class six, I cannot remember well. My father was laid off from work. He worked in a clearing and forwarding company but they were downsizing and it’s around the same time when computers were taking root and my father had no knowledge of computers – he only went up to primary school (the old system when it was CPE) Him being laid off changed a lot of things but I didn’t realize this soon enough until I finished class 8. I finished class eight with my elder sister in the same year and we both did well. It was time to go to high school and there was no money. All the years this man was working, he never thought of saving. I wonder whether he had it in mind that he had kids that will need to go to school and would have to pay fees for them. (My first two sisters did not proceed to high school – they did not do so well)

Well, I think his mind had some sort of jump and he remembered that he had some social security money, NSSF. So, he applied for it and got Kes.75,000 and that was to take me and my sister to high school. It took us through form one and I am so grateful for that. But getting to form two, there was no more money, so I was going to drop out of school. I had applied for a scholarship, but it had not come through. Fortunately, one of my aunts knew of another organization that offered scholarships. I quickly applied and was fortunate to be awarded the scholarship. And I could stay in school. So, my fees were covered for the whole period of four years. I still struggled with pocket money. My father would reluctantly hand me Kes.400 shillings and that would be money for shopping, fare, and pocket money. Thank God for my mum, I have no idea how but every time she topped that up with something small. It was almost like she was the father – do not get me wrong, I am expressing what it felt.

All this while I do not have a relationship with my father. We would only say hi, not because I was mad or anything, but I am not sure he wanted to have a relationship with me. Let’s fast forward to after I complete form four. Now, I have to mention, just before I finished form four, my dad sold a shamba – a portion of what he was given from land his father left behind. He has many brothers. I have no idea where that money went. I completed my KCSE on 20^th November (I know you would really like that I mention the year so you calculate my age. Sorry 😂😂), stayed home a month then started looking for a job because I knew if I did not there was no going to University. I got a small job at the offices of one of the organizations that sponsored my high school (the same that did not come through earlier but did when I was in form three after I already had another scholarship). After some weeks, I thought I am not making enough from there, so I left to go teach. Started saving some very little money, because I was not earning much. I taught for 4 months then applied for an attachment program with KEMRI Kilifi – this is a program for top performers. Oh, did I mention that I was the best in Kilifi county in that year’s KCSE? I was.

Basically, I hustled to get money and help a little bit at home as well. The time came to join campus; I wasn’t so worried because I had promises of a scholarship from the principal. The MP and MCA promised to help as well. In January 2014 when I was to join campus, some good shock hit me that I was on my own. There was no scholarship and the MP and MCA weren’t so ready to help – you know politicians, right?😡😠 So, my mother took a loan to offset my fees and I used the small savings I had to take care of my shopping and pocket money. By the way, I paid that loan back using my HELB money. I hope you realize that you are not seeing my father in all this. I am grateful for HELB, the MP and MCA helped a little bit (and I mean a little bit) mostly in my first year and partly the second year but even then it was pushing them until I got tired of begging. So, I had to really hustle. I sold eggs on campus, started a small shop at home that I let my father run using HELB money and bought a printer with my good friend. Towards the end of second year, I knew I cannot depend on anyone, so I had to work my back out to get money for my upkeep and add to HELB to pay for my fees. One man, the CEO of the organization I worked for shortly after high school chipped in – I am so grateful he did.

Long story short, I literally had to support myself probably 90% through University. Now, in 2017, I did a program called Man Enough by Transform nations. This program brought out all the wounds I had that my father inflicted on me and I wasn’t even aware. They were still so fresh but buried deep down. Oh, men!! I hated my father. I didn’t even want to see him. Let me take you back a little. I got born again in high school but my relationship with God really began in second year in University. By form three, my mum and sisters had already started heaping on me burdens of what my father did to them. By Giryama definition, I was a man already. And most times I had to confront my father when he hurt my mum or sisters. I was somehow, the person they ran to. Imagine that kind of burden for a sixteen, seventeen-year-old. Now, in 2016, I learned about love and I wanted to see if that would change my father. Look, I hated that man but pretended to love him. Don’t ask me how. It worked by the way and towards the end of the year (2016), he got born again. Now here, I realized I couldn’t fake it anymore, I had to love him truly because there was no other way, I could help him grow in salvation. I spent days crying because I did not know how I was going to love him or even disciple him. I tried and put up a brave face like the Giryama man I am.

But when I did Man Enough, everything crumbled and the hate and disrespect I had for him within me was too much. I didn't wanna see him or talk to him. We already did not have a good relationship, and this was making it even worse. Understanding that there are lots of things in my life that were so wrong and it’s all because he wasn’t there made me furious😡😡. I had missed too many things in life. I had struggled too much. I had literally gone through fire and I was still in it and for most of it if not all of it, he was responsible.

Well, you cannot be angry all your life. It was getting worse and bitterness had crept in. My relationship with God was not in a very good place and I knew I had to do something. So, on the new year eve of 2018, I sat him down and released all the anger I had. That man has an ego, I got mine from him, but he had to keep quiet and listen. Good thing, he actually apologized – I am not sure he meant it but it was a start. I started trying to build a relationship with him.

I will tell you; every day gets better with time. Sometimes, it’s easy and we can have a good conversation and sometimes it’s not. He tries, but you know, it is almost too late already. I am a grown-up man now and I am not sure we can change anything. I forgave him but sometimes it feels like I haven’t. Maybe I have not. I sometimes hear about how people were parented or read about parenting and I just get angry. Today as I looked at those statuses on WhatsApp especially; somehow, I felt so angry because I don’t think I can say so much about my father and the impact he has had on me. That is why I am writing this because I know that there are lots of men especially and women out there who share my experience or even worse. You were abandoned at a small age and had to be raised by your mother or grandparents or your dad was too busy for you or too busy providing food and paying school fees and a relationship with you did not really matter or it did but he forgot – I don’t know.

I want you to know that you are not alone. There are a lot of us out here and we are scared to talk about it. I am too but I thought today, let me just put it out here. I am not sure how my father will think if he sees this or what my siblings or relatives will think if they see this. But I think it is important to talk about it. Most of you men who will read this are already fathers or you will be fathers in the near or later future. I really hope we can learn and do better. Know that it is not enough to put food on the table, clothe and pay fees for your kids. Build a relationship with them. Love them, tell them and show them.

That is it for today but I hope to create a platform where I will share my experiences in more details and how they affected me and maybe allow other men and women who like me had absent present fathers or absent fathers or passive fathers.

I think for a close, I have to mention that I don't think I would become the man that I am if I didn’t go through what I went through. I am not saying this to approve of it but to point out something positive of this whole terrible ordeal. And for that, I am grateful to God. Most importantly, and I remember this every time, is that I have a heavenly father that is perfect and cares about me deeply😊😊. He is the picture of perfect fatherhood and even though a relationship with Him hasn’t been easy because of the idea of fatherhood I have had it gets better every day as I let go and surrender. My kids will have a better father because now I know what fatherhood really is. But I have to choose to be a better father, that I know.